


Statement Redacted

by CleverKitsune



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Drinking, Dubious Consent, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CleverKitsune/pseuds/CleverKitsune
Summary: Stress is not a very good long-term motivator. Elias thinks he knows just the man to help Jon unwind a little.





	Statement Redacted

**Author's Note:**

> first fic I've written for this series, hoping to post more as they strike me. I just really want Jon and Martin to catch a break.

Elias was at his desk, as he often was these days. Martin and Jon had just finished talking, and he was going over the points of the conversation in his mind. Jon’s sighed clarification of “treasure in the sense of the world not ending” had piqued his interested, turned his focus to the two men talking. Sure, preventing the world from ending was a noble goal, the kind that masochistic types like Jon ran head-first into, but It wasn’t a very strong long-term motivator. If that was the only reason Jon wanted to stop the Unknowing, he was likely to keep running himself up against walls and get burnt out. 

But the part that came later, Jon’s concern over Martin recording statements and his insistence that the man ask the others to help him, that was interesting. The avatar of the Beholding leaned back in his chair, an idea forming. Jon had been so frustrated with the assistant in the beginning, but it seemed things had changed. Elias considered Martin’s last words to Jon “It’s not too late, y’know, unless the world ends”

Perhaps it was time for a meeting.

Martin peaked his head into Elias’s office after almost a minute of fidgeting nervously outside the door where he thought Elias couldn’t see him, “Hello, I heard you um, wanted to see me?”

Elias spread his arms, schooling his expression into a confident, easy smile.

“Martin! Just the man I wanted to see, would you come sit down please?”

The younger man crept to the chair in front of Elias’s desk, only just barely coming to rest on the piece of furniture. He looked uncertain and…if Elias was any judge of Martin’s character, which he absolutely was, quietly angry. Good.

“I- if this is about the statements, I’m doing them as fast as I can, just don’t put anymore on anyone else yet, especially Jon with whatever you have him doing-“

Elias held up a hand. “Relax Martin, its nothing about how you’re doing your job, you’re doing fine. I actually wanted to talk to you about one of your coworkers; have you spoken to Jon since he got back?”

A dark look crossed Martins face “You mean got back from being kidnapped. He was kidnapped for god’s sake, Elias how could you not tell us?”

Elias sighed, letting his expression slide into a small frown. “I was doing everything in my power to get him back, but in the meantime, what would have been the point of telling you? You probably would have rushed out to save him, and then I’d be out two people.” 

Martin looked down, shame and grief threatening to make his voice crack “What if he had been killed?”

Elias kept his smug satisfaction at the other man’s words to himself. “I’m sorry. If it means that much to you, in the future I will let you know if I think Jon is going to put himself in harms way.” He did not add that in Jon’s case that would probably mean hourly updates. “I wanted to talk to you about Jon anyway. He-well, I’m worried that with the recent incident he’s trying to take on too much at once and not giving himself any breaks. He needs to give himself time to de-stress. Since he holds you in such high regard, I was hoping you could… talk to him about it.” 

Martin’s expression was almost embarrassing in its eagerness “Oh, okay. Yeah, I think I could talk to him about that, I don’t know if I’d say he holds me in any high regard, but Tim and Basira and I were going-“

“Great! That will be perfect, thank you Martin.” Elias made a show of opening his laptop.

“Right. I’ll just see myself out then.”

Elias pretended to begin typing an email. He idly watched Melanie browse Amazon for concealed tasers on her phone as Martin made his way back to Jon’s desk. 

There. That ought to motivate him.

 

Martin walked up to Jon’s desk in what he could only hope looked like a casual manner. Jon needed his help with something. Something not scary, or weird, or dangerous. He needed help relaxing, and Martin had a plan. Well, several plans, but there was only one he’d actually dare act upon. He put his hand on Jon’s desk, leaning into the space.

"So, Jon, I know you’re busy and I know you’re not going to stay long-"

John looked up from the paperwork on his desk, idly shuffling a tape into his bag. “I assume there’s a but?”

“Butttt, Basira and Tim and maybe Melanie and I were all thinking of having a drink after work and I think you should come, it’d be fun! It’s a really nice pub not too far from my place, not that you’d know that, but the pints are cheap and the music isn’t too loud-“

John shot a glance at the recorder on his desk as if willing it to shut off. “Martin. Stop. I know what you’re trying to do.”

Dread spilled into the assistant’s lungs. “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

“You’re-“ the Archivist let out an exasperated breath “you’re trying to invite me to tag along with you and the others out of pity because I was kidnapped and you feel guilty that none of you knew.”

Martin bit back his smile of relief, “What? No, I want you to come! We want you to come, please, the others haven’t seen you in so long… You’ll still be able to leave on your trip in the morning, right? Can’t you come out for just one drink?”

Jon leaned on his hand, the circles under his eyes seeming darker as he looked up at the other man. “Martin, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I doubt Tim wants to see me, and Melanie has made it very clear where she stands, and Basira is…well, things are complicated between us to say the least.”

“Are you two…did you two have a falling out?” Martin hated how his voice had gone quiet halfway through the question.  
“What? Oh, uh yeah, we aren’t…we weren’t ever really a thing to tell you the truth. I just think she might still hold some animosity for me after the whole, you know, getting magically bound to Elias thing.”

“Oh that…well I don’t really think that was your fault, seems to me like if Elias wants something he’s going to get it regardless of what anybody else does. I think we all know that by now. But there’s no work talk at the pub, just drinks and matches for Tim to yell at and everyone has a little fun then goes home at a reasonable hour. Please say you’ll come out with us? I’ll buy for you.” He gave Jon a look that he hoped was endearing and cute in a not-too-desperate kind of way.

Jon steepled his fingers, hiding his mouth with his joined hands “Alright, but just a couple of drinks and back to the flat, right?”

“Yeah definitely! Great, I’ll go let the others know and we can leave at half past!”

“Wait Martin, I should probably go back to my place first and get ready."

“Nope, that’s the great thing about this place, very casual-” Martin picked up a second tape on the Archivist’s desk, pretending to study it with mild interest. “Now let me go tell Tim and then I’ll swing back and we can walk over together”  
He walked off with the tape as collateral, ignoring Jon’s noise of protest.

 

When had Martin gotten so clever? Of course he had grabbed the one tape Jonathan really really wanted, so when he had walked off to tell the others, the Archivist had had no choice but to wait instead of sneaking out like he had intended. Then on his return, Martin had even brought him his coat, so that excuse was out as well. It had been a small miracle he had managed to grab his bag at all, his assistant shooting the messenger bag a badly disguised nervous glance as he picked it up. Like the man was anticipating his trying to run for it now that he had his things.

Which he had been planning to do, but still.

They arrived at the pub a few minutes later than the rest, and Tim, Basira, and Melanie were already sitting in a booth. Tim turned his head as they walked in, a sour look on his face. Jonathan didn’t catch the expression on the face of the shorter man next to him, but Tim’s abrupt smile as his head turned back towards the table made the Archivist wish he had. Basira waved them over, she and Melanie on one side of the rounded booth. Tim scooted to the middle which left he and Martin the side across from Melanie and Basira. He was grateful when Martin slid into the booth first, leaving him the end.

“Hello, Jon.” Barisa smiled, and her smile was genuine. Of all of them, she really did seem to be taking the whole end of the world thing and forced magical bondage to a monstrous being rather well. “First round is on me, Newcastle alright?”

“Yeah that sounds…great actually.” Basira left to put the order in and Jonathan studied the group carefully. Tim nodded his head and Melanie was making a point of not glaring if that was possible. He relaxed. He could do this.

Basira waved him over to help collect drinks, and he obliged, carrying over the remaining two drinks. He slid one to Martin, fingers brushing in the exchange. Did he imagine it, or did the other man’s hand linger just a little longer before he took the glass? He turned toward Martin, but the shorter man was watching a match playing on a screen just above Melanie’s head. Wishful thinking maybe. His hands circled his own glass as he listened to the conversation of the group around him. None of them noticed the sound of the recorder in his bag clicking on.

Martin slid Basira another tenner, and Basira got up again, undisguised amusement written in her eyes.

Tim eyed Martin skeptically. “You sure? You might want to slow down a little.”

Jonathan considered his assistant, eyes lingering on the dusky pink that had settled across his cheeks.  
“Course I’m sure, look, the teams winning, we’re off work, and we’re all together having fun! You’re already on your third and Basira was going up anyway for another-“

Tim snorted “Well for one, our team is losing, and for another-“ Melanie shot him a look. 

“For another, suit yourself, after all the shit we’ve seen maybe another pint wouldn’t hurt.”

Martin turned to the Archivist, triumphant and a little unsteady. “I’m not even drunk, honestly, I’m just having so much fun. We haven’t all been out in ages.”

It was true, and it was part of the reason he had been nursing his second drink for so long. It was…nice, nice to see everyone having fun drinking and talking, carrying on like the horrors just outside the door couldn’t reach them here.  
Basira returned and Martin took his glass, “You’re a saint Basira!”

Jonathan raised his eyebrows at the woman, who just shrugged and smiled “It’s not every day you get to ascend to sainthood just for getting a beer.”

Jonathan smiled. Martin pointed at his face, crowding into his personal space “You smiled! You did, I just saw it, now who’s knackered, hmm?” He laughed and took a sip of his beer, staying pressed against the taller man’s side. The Archivist knew he should move over, but Martin was so invitingly warm that he found himself trying not to move at all. 

His assistant leaned closer, stealing his almost empty pint and sliding it between his hands. He looked up into Jonathan’s eyes, his expression warm and content and a little lost, “Are you having fun?”

Jonathan nodded, too afraid of the moment ending to even speak. He wondered if his face was red, and if Martin’s hair was a soft as it looked. Martin emptied some of his pint into Jonathan’s glass, sloshing some out the sides in the process. “Hey!”

“What’s wrong?” the shorter man’s smile turned mischievous, “you’ve hardly touched your second pint, go on and take another drink.”

Jonathan tried not to think about how Melanie’s eyes locked onto him as he obediently took a sip. Warmth curled in his stomach. Martin cheered and finished the rest of his own pint, and Tim shot a look at Basira, who held up a hand. “Sorry Martin, I’m cutting you off. You do have to make it home after this after all.”

“What!? That’s rubbish, we’ve barely even been here an hour, how can I be cut off already!?”

Jon rested his hand on the shorter man’s arm, “it’s been two and a half, Martin. Maybe we should see about getting you home, I can call you a cab if you’d like.”

Martin waved his hand at the other man, “Pff, my flat’s a five-minute walk, cabs not going to take me that close.”

Jonathan glanced at the door. It was getting dark outside. He pictured the streets beyond the door, the things that might be lurking in the dark. He thought of the Anglerfish, and how the dark was so unfriendly to the intoxicated.  
“Right, well I’ll walk you home then.”

Martin looked up at him as if he was about to say he was just joking at any second. “Y-you really don’t have to, I know you’re busy...”

“I think I can spare 5 minutes. Besides, I could use the exercise, and not running for a change would be nice.”

Martin laughed, “Kay, well lets go then!” He half stood up, tripping over Jonathan’s leg as he tried to leave the booth with Jonathan still seated. He ended up practically in the taller man’s lap and the Archivist hurriedly ducked out of the booth before they could get more entangled. “Goodnight everyone. Thank you for this.”

Tim nodded, the expression on his face inscrutable, “Take care of each other out there.”

Martin waved and tugged Jonathan along by the strap of his messenger bag before he could reply.

 

The second they were out the door Melanie smacked him on the arm, “I cannot believe you just said ‘take care of each other’ to two people who’re off to go shag.”

Basira grinned, leaning closer to the two remaining assistants, “So they really are a thing? That’s cute, they make a good couple.”

Tim barked out a laugh, “Well they’d definitely make a more convincing couple than you and John, that’s for sure. Martin’s been sighing to me for ages about him. I don’t get it but I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it.”

Melanie sighed, “At least someone’s getting lucky tonight…”

Tim took a drink, mulling. “…Think Elias would see it coming if you put a venomous snake in a parcel and mailed it to him?”

 

Martin leaned heavily against him as they made their way to the short man’s flat. Maybe it was his low body-fat after the abduction, but Jonathan thought he was beginning to feel the alcohol, a low tingling at the base of his skull. It was only the decent thing to do, walking Martin home. He would just make sure his assistant got into the flat safely and then back to his new flat to finish packing. Happily, it wasn’t even that far from here.

Martin stopped, swaying slightly on his feet as he smiled up at Jonathan, “Well, this is me.”

Jonathan looked up at the building, the darker alleys running parallel to its entrance. A yellow light illuminated the main door but the building itself was in relative darkness because public works had not deigned to repair the nearby lamppost.

Martin glanced up at Jonathan again, a look of unease creeping across his face, “I, It’s not normally this dark around here. Would you…could you stay until I get the door open, please?”

The archivist scanned the shadows around the building, his grip tightening around his bag. He reached for Martin’s sleeve, stopping himself at the last minute. “Yeah, yeah I think I’d better.”

They made their way to the main door, Martin already fishing for his keys in his coat pocket. He fumbled the lock a couple of times, “Dammit, I…this usually works, c’mon, why won’t it turn?”

Jonathan held out his hand, “Maybe I could give it a go?” He didn’t like how little he could see in the darkness beyond the door now that they had reached an island of light. Martin’s hand slid into his and he momentarily forgot what he had asked for. The jangle of metal keys brought him to attention. He licked his lips, nervous for an entirely new reason. 

Martin withdrew his hand. “Right, so I’ll just…” He unlocked the door, pushing it open carefully. It was dark in the entryway beyond too, the light flicking at the top of the stairwell failing to illuminate anything useful before the first step.  
Martin stepped closer to him “Well uh, my flat’s at the top of the stairs of course so…guess I’ll just…be going then.” He made no move to go.

“Well, I haven’t really got you to your flat yet, let me…let me walk you up.”

“Please.”

The Archivist closed the door behind them and the men made their way hurriedly up the stairs. Martin pointed out his door and Jonathan flipped through his keys, eyes darting to the pool of shadows below. He turned the key with a little more force than necessary, and as the door swung open Martin toppled into the entryway. “Martin!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just come in and shut the door!” Jonathan obeyed without thinking, locking the door behind him and leaning against it. He grabbed at the light-switch, bathing the entryway in a soft light.  
Martin was on the floor still, and he was…shaking? “Martin, are you alright?”

Martin chuckled breathlessly as Jonathan helped him up “Look at us, like schoolkids, getting spooked just because it’s a little dark outside at night…I’m sorry Jon, ever since the-ever since the attack on the Institute I’ve been such a 'fraidy cat.”

“No, that’s okay, you’re okay. I was...well, lets just say I know the feeling.”

Martin turned on more lights and Jonathan saw a small but inviting kitchen. He wondered if that was his cue to leave. He thought of the darkness beyond. Martin turned on the taps and began filling an electric kettle, turning back to the taller man “Would you stay a little longer for some tea?” Water spilled out the sides of the kettle as Martin struggled to plug the device in. Jonathan glanced at the door. Maybe a little tea would be good before he left, sober him up a bit. 

”Yes thank you, I think that would be good. Here, let me.” He rescued the kettle from Martin’s grasp and Martin made himself busy, getting out some mugs.

The kettle now safely heating, Jonathan guided Martin to a chair as he looked over Martin’s collection of teas. Which one did the other man drink? It was too late for the breakfast tea, and chamomile didn’t seem right. Jasmine loose-leaf. He stopped, hand outstretched to grab the tin, realizing Martin had never actually told him this preference.

“Martin, what tea do you usually take?”

“Oh sorry, heh, bet my cupboards a little less organized than you’re used to, I don’t have people over that often-you know, could I have the Jasmine for mine please? I have a tin of loose-leaf I think.”

“Of course.” Of course it was.

The kettle chimed and the Archivist scooped the tea into diffusers, carefully placing one in each mug. He poured the water into a mug and set it in front of Martin, placing his own across from it. He leaned against the counter, watching as Martin cupped the hot drink and sighed contentedly, “It’s so warm.” The shorter man curled closer to the mug and just then he would have looked perfect with a blanket around his shoulders. Jonathan idly wondered if it would be alright if he ventured further into the apartment to look for one. 

He took a sip of his own tea and when he looked back, Martin was staring, following the path of the mug to his mouth. Martin’s eyes met his and the other man started, jostling his tea. His assistant tried to take a hurried sip, feigning drinking, and the hot liquid sloshed over his neck and chest. He yelped, scrambling out of his chair.

“Ah, fuck! Oh damn… ha, I- I’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t I?” His voice broke part way through the comment, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

Jonathan closed the distance between them quickly, reaching out to touch his assistant’s shoulder, “Are you alright? Here, let me get you to the sink, we can put some cold water on your…well, we’ll just get some cold water.”

Martin avoided his gaze, struggling with the top button of his shirt. A tear slid down the other man’s check, “I…I don’t know how you can just stand there, and act like everything’s fine, like the biggest problem is me spilling some tea on myself…fuck, I…this is the first night, y’know, this was the first night that I hadn’t thought about the statements-“ He tugged at the wet fabric helplessly, fine motor skills dulled by alcohol, “its just so much, and it hurts.” He looked up at Jonathan, eyes full of tears. 

Carefully, Jonathan placed his hands over Martins, “I know.” He said softly, “I know, I’m sorry, please, let me help you.”

Martin looked up and before Jonathan knew what was happening, the other man was kissing him, hard and desperate.  
He let out a small gasp, hands still tangled in the collar of Martin’s shirt. It was shocking and yet part of him, the part that belonged to the monster, immediately began committing it to memory, the taste of Martin’s lips, the crush of them against his own.

Martin withdrew, stumbling backward, hands held out in supplication. “Oh, god, Jon, I-I-I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have, I don’t know what I was thinking-"

The Archivist noted how wide Martin’s pupils had blown, the soft sighing sound of his own name on the other man’s lips. He shivered, and the feeling that came over him…it wasn’t quite lust, not in the way he used to feel it. It was…overwhelming. A possessive hunger, the desire to know everything Martin had to offer, to take him apart and witness every second in minute detail.

Martin was babbling apologies. He would have to make his intentions very clear. He closed the space between them again, taking Martin’s shirt collar in one hand as he undid the buttons of his shirt. He looked down at the other man, strange power dripping onto his tongue as he asked, “What do you want?”

Martin licked his lips “I-I want you. I want to convince you to stay…but if I can’t do that, I’d like to fuck you so well you’ll at least want to come back for more.”

Jonathan blinked, dark color rising to his cheeks. He was still getting used to how candidly people answered the questions. Martin was practically scarlet-but he hadn’t fled, so Jonathan counted that as a win. “I see. Well I can’t say you have the best taste in partners-“ He continued to undo the buttons on Martins shirt, savoring the parting of fabric across the other man’s chest, “but I’m going to try to give you what you want.”

Martin still had tears at the corners of his eyes. Jonathan brushed his thumb under Martins eye, and Martin caught his wrist, turning his face into the Archivist’s palm. “Well then, lets uh…bedroom’s this way.” He took Jonathan gently by the hand and led the way to his bedroom.

Martin’s bedroom was exactly how Jonathan might have pictured it, a thought that unnerved him slightly as soon as he had it. The bed was neatly made and pushed up against the outside wall, a large window with a pothos plant resting on the sill just above it. There was a nightstand next to the bed and a writing desk with a laptop and a journal resting on it. The remainder of the room was filled with books, a bookcase dominating one wall and piles of books that the bookcase had failed to contain stacked just to the side of it. 

“Sorry it’s a bit messy,” Martin offered sheepishly, perching on the bed. Jonathan followed him to the bed, sitting next to him as he took the room in. He thought of his own empty bedroom in the new flat. 

“No, its nice. Well lived in. I um-” He swallowed, his hands clasped in his lap. He felt foolish admitting he didn’t know where to start. It had been awhile, and well, he hadn’t had much experience with intimacy to begin with.

Martin leaned closer. “It’s okay if you’re nervous”

And like hell he was going to let Martin comfort him like he was the one who deserved it. He leaned in. Martin’s mouth was warm, and his breath smelled like hops and tea. Martin made a soft noise of surprise, his eyes fluttering closed. 

And then it was Jonathan’s turn to be surprised. Martin deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past the taller man’s lips. Jonathan’s brain felt like it was short circuiting, overwhelmed by the sensations as Martin gently pressed him down onto the bed, knee slipping between his legs. He slid his hands to Martin’s hips, fingertips digging into the fabric of his trousers. Martin laughed and softly pressed a kiss to the corner of Jonathan’s mouth as he fumbled with the taller man’s shirt, trying to loosen the buttons.

Jonathan had enough presence of mind to help undo his shirt, his free hand snaking up Martin’s spine to rest in his hair. It was so soft, and Jonathan was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to bury his fingers in it. Martin arched into his hand, seemingly pleased with his efforts. The Archivist’s shirt joined his assistants on the floor.

Jonathan went for the button of Martin’s trousers. Martin made a breathy sound of encouragement and Jonathan propped himself up on his elbow to kiss the other man, nipping at his lips as he worked the catch open. He slid the fabric lower past Martin’s hips, his eager hands darting ahead of him, sliding under the waistband to stroke the soft skin of the other man’s thigh.

Martin was breathing heavily, eyes half shut, “No fair, I haven’t even gotten your undershirt off yet…” 

Jonathan ignored him, running his hands relentlessly across the other man’s body. Did he like this? What about when his fingers ran across his ribs like that? He felt the man above him go tense when he rolled his thumb across his nipple, fingertip pressing in on the soft skin.

“R-Right, okay, you-“ Martin squirmed, catching Jonathan’s hands in his own, “you- have to just give me a minute- its just too much too soon.” Martin looked down at him, face flush and apologetic and Jonathan wanted nothing more than to trap that expression between his fingers. He reluctantly pulled his hands back, balled them up into fists as he propped himself up on his elbows. 

Martin finished taking off his own trousers and tossed them to the ground. His fingers, less awkward this time, went to the zip of Jonathan’s trousers. Jonathan watched, fixated, as Martin’s hands bunched into his trousers and slid them down, revealing his pants inch by inch. He was vaguely grateful he had worn one of his nicer pairs to work today. Martin looked up at him then, his eyes asking a question. Jonathan, not trusting his voice, simply nodded.  
Martin caught the hem of his pants and tugged, slowly revealing dark curls. He suddenly felt very vulnerable. Martin looked up again through his lashes. His breath was hot against the sensitive skin of his shaft. “Please don’t let this all have been a dream in the morning-”

 

He took the tip in his mouth and Jonathan let out an embarrassingly breathy moan, “Oh Christ, Martin…” Martin bobbed his head down, his tongue sliding along his cock. He pulled back and his tongue curled around the head, wet and perfect. Jonathan grabbed handfuls of the sheets, desperately wanting to run his fingers along Martin’s jaw as he swallowed around him. Martin took him into his mouth again, agonizingly slowly, and Jonathan bucked up, unable to control himself. 

“Ah, s-sorry, got a little ahead of myself.” 

Martin hummed appreciatively around his cock, pressing his tongue in a little harder, and Jonathan sucked in a breath, eyelids feeling heavy as he watched Martin’s head move up and down between his thighs. It was so hot and slick and tight-he wouldn’t last long like this.

“Martin please, I- “ Jon’s cock was heavy on his tongue, and yet his voice was so soft. It wasn’t his usual tone, the clipped, crisp smarminess of a man trying to keep the whole world together. It was uncertain, gentle, and Martin reveled in it. He knew the other man must be getting close, so reluctantly he withdrew, licking the tip once before sitting up again. Jon was flush, staring up at him with a hunger Martin felt he would do anything to satisfy. He tugged at his pants, sliding them down his thighs. Jon licked his lips, and Martin shuddered, hurrying to get the clothing off. He leaned across them and opened his nightstand’s top drawer, fishing out a small bottle of lube. 

Jon raised his eyebrows. Martin huffed, “What!? I just wanted it in case, you never know!”

“Clearly not.” Martin ignored the bait, instead crawling onto Jon’s hips. That shut him right the hell up, and Martin silently congratulated himself by rocking his hips into Jon’s. 

Jon’s breath hissed out between his teeth and the Archivist looked like he was dying to use his hands, the sheets rucked up all around them, but Martin knew Jon, knew that he would secretly do anything to give up even just the smallest bit of control over his life and the fate of the world. So, he took it from him, making him watch as he uncapped the bottle and poured a little more than necessary onto his fingers. 

He slid his hand down between his thighs, fingers brushing his entrance. Martin felt Jon’s eyes burning into him and his own eyes fluttered shut. He started slow, working himself open with two fingers while Jon watched. He hadn’t done this in a while, the sensation unfamiliar and tight. 

He curled his fingers, eyes opening and saw that Jon was watching with rapped attention, his curled fist pressed against his mouth. Martin felt a surge of affection for the taller man and took his hand in his own, pressing it against his lips.  
Jon sighed in relief, fingers brushing Martin’s lips. Martin parted his lips, taking two of Jon’s fingers into his mouth and sucking them gently as he spread himself apart. Jon canted his hips up, his expression desperate, and Martin relented. He released Jon’s fingers and scooted forward, lining himself up with the other man’s cock. He sank down onto it, impaling himself inch by inch. He gasped. Jon’s cock wasn’t the thickest, but it was long, and it was so much at once.

“You can touch me now, if you want to.” Jon’s hands were on him in an instant, caressing his cheek, sliding down the curve of his bottom, stroking along his thigh. 

He rocked his hips, unable to stop himself from moving. Jon groaned and began to slowly thrust up into him. He was clearly holding back, afraid of hurting his assistant. Quickly though it became clear the careful, gentle pace would not be enough and Jon grabbed Martin’s hips, guiding him up and down on his cock. Martin panted, the sensation becoming too intense to do anything but go along with. He felt Jon’s tongue, wet and slick, tasting the skin where his neck met his collarbone. 

“You still taste of tea there.” It was a statement of fact, no question, no romanticizing, and Martin suddenly pictured Jon studying him, taking notes and storing them away for later use. Beholding. The thought sent a thrill of electricity down his spine, and then Jon thrust up, his stroke hitting just the right angle, and Martin gasped, his cry escaping in a mewl. Jon let out a shaky breath and repeated the motion, and Martin dug his fingers into John’s shoulders, the sensation hitting him in waves.

“Oh God Jon, please…” His cock ached, the lack of stimulation too much for him to bear. He hated how pathetic he sounded, but then Jon’s hand circled his cock, stroking roughly, and Martin shut his eyes tight. Jon continued to thrust into him, his breath becoming erratic, “Open your eyes.”

His eyes fluttered open, unable to deny Jon anything, and he took in the sight of the Archivist below. His dark curly hair mussed, his olive skin flush and beaded with sweat, the dark, ringed eyes staring at him with such intensity that Martin felt himself coming undone. He arched his back, hoping it all would be enough and Jon swore, his thrusts losing all rhythm. His hand tightened on Martin’s cock, fingers curling possessively. He felt Jon’s cock pulse inside him.

“Oh Jon.” White-hot pleasure rolled over him and he lost himself, cuming onto Jon’s stomach. He pitched forward, exhausted, and Jon’s arms wrapped around him, the weight of them dragging him into unconsciousness. His last thought before sleep was the half-dreamt sound of a small mechanical click.

Jonathan felt the tickle of hair that was not his own against his cheek and blinked awake. Light streamed through an unfamiliar window just above his head and filtered green through the leaves of a pothos plant. The view from the window was all the slanted roofs of houses and small shops, and in the distance Jonathan thought he could just pick out the roof of the Magnus institute.

He felt stirring in the bed beside him, a sudden weight on his chest. He turned his head and saw Martin curled tightly against him, enticingly shameless even in sleep. Things had been so hard lately…so frightening in their intensity, that waking up next to Martin, safe in a comfortable bed after surviving a night without supernatural incident was almost shocking. He watched the rise and fall of Martin’s chest, trying to commit it to memory. 

Later, he would have to leave, chase Gertrude’s winding trail of statements and hope he was in time to save the world. For now though, he closed his eyes and felt…hopeful. Like maybe they would save the world. And maybe after there’d be time for other things, too.

Elias yawned, stretching in his chair. He had spent the night in the office again, and his joints complained as he rose to make himself a cup of coffee. He vaguely regretted his decision to Watch, but it had been the least he could do to keep an eye on the flat while they slept. Besides, he didn’t sleep much anymore anyway... He debated texting Martin, spooking them both awake with the buzz of a phone, but decided against it. Let them have a lie-in. They’d earned it.


End file.
